About Bloody Time
by Shardes
Summary: Lucius is dead, Malfoy is shaghopping, and Harry faces the facts.
1. Prologue

_Lucius Malfoy, convicted deatheater._

Is that what they are calling me now? How vague, how understated. I am not as lowly as Pettigrew or Lestrange, I am Lucius Christopher Malfoy the Second, Voldemort's trusted follower, _loyal _deatheater and I exercise more influence over the Ministry for Magic then even Dumbledore himself did.

I am _not_ just a convicted deatheater. In fact, if what Narcissa has just written to me is to be presumed correct, I am no longer convicted, even. I am to be released from this confinement today. After suffering years of my worst torment, I am freed.

The dark, damp walls of Lucius Malfoy's cell held an eerie chill, unnatural, even for Azkaban. They seemed to mock him, appearing only to be three walls and a metal gate. No sunlight, no happiness, no warmth. The past years had done much to Lucius' appearance, though nothing to his ego.

Lucius' white-blonde hair hung limp and greasy from his scalp, plastered against his sallow countenance with something akin to vigor. His cold, unfeeling ice-blue eyes remained the same, if not sunk further into his skull than they had been. Lucius has certainly lost most of his body weight, it seemed now his skin hung off his bones, no muscle tissue or fat in between. His sneer, like his eyes, remained the same mocking feature, though weakened somewhat by his overall feeble physique.

Accompanied to her husband's cell by a dementor was none other than the ravishing Narcissa Malfoy. The past few years had done little to alter her outwardly appearance, though her mind had been slowly withering into nothing. Life without Lucius had been hard, both on her and Draco, this was evident in her eyes. Nacissa had never been one to carefully conceal her emotions, and this wasn't the time to try.

"Oh Lucius, look at you!"

Narcissa was plainly horrified at what met her eyes. Lucius Malfoy, reduced to skin and bone, quite literally.

After an unwanted harassment by a few less-than-happy dementors, both Lucius and Narcissa walked out of Azkaban. Whole. Lucius, you see, had refused to let four walls and a bone-chilling memory rob him of anything but his body.

No one - save for the ever-persistent members of The Order of The Phoenix - could disrupt the feeling of absolute bliss that enveloped Narcissa entirely. And who but these aforesaid mentioned prats decided to appear before them?

Narcissa's smile was wiped clean from her face. Clinging onto Lucius' arm worriedly, Narcissa let a look of absolute horror take her features over by storm. Dumbly, as though being imprisoned had affected his eyesight, Narcissa stated the obvious; "Lucius - it's the Potter boy."

Shooting first Narcissa - then Harry - a look of complete disdain, a sneer wound its way upon Lucius' pallid features. Crossing his thin arms over his chest, Lucius took a step forward, as though challenging Harry. As though in response, Harry did the same.

Both Narcissa and the members of the Order were taken somewhat aback at the confrontation, obviously they had not _meant_ to have such a run-in. Though, the Order seemed infinitely more pleased than the ever-worried Mrs. Malfoy.

"Potter."

"Lucius."

Boldly, Harry found the courage to speak Mr. Malfoy's first name in a degrading, scornful tone. He was not sure as to just where the courage _came _from, Harry had trouble not displaying this fact on his countenance. His green eyes alight with loathing, Harry also had trouble keeping a condescending sneer from his face.

Lucius' face contorted in rage, the _insolence_ . Would Potter_never_ learn?

"Do not use that name, Potter, it is unfit for your half-blood lips." Lucius spoke in the same cool, drawling, demeaning tone as his son, and the familiarity was striking. Lucius cast his icy-blue gaze upon the army of wizards and witches who stood behind his young foe.

"All this, for me? I am truly touched. I never expected such a turnout for my welcoming party."

"Maybe we're celebrating your belated death, Lucius."

This escaped, not from Harry's own lips, but from Hermione Granger, who was standing but two feet behind. Her bushy hair constricted to a ponytail, her eyes wide with hatred, she looked quite the sight, half-buried under layers of clothing.

"What was that, filthy mud-blood scum?", Lucius snapped. Drawing his wand he pointed it directly for her throat. His voice a low growl, Lucius repeated, "What did you say?"

"Oi! Don't you dare point your wand at her." Harry's wand was raised, pointed at the man before him. Hastily brushing aside disheveled bangs, Harry's gaze never faulted.

"Avada -", Lucius began -

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted this. With a flash of green light, a moan, and a heavy thud, Lucius Malfoy was dead. On the cobblestone streets, but twenty minutes from the Malfoy's Manor, Lucius Christopher Malfoy the Second was dead.


	2. Revelations

My father is dead.

Lucius Christopher Malfoy the Second - is dead.

And I, strangely enough, am undergoing a strange revelation of character. It's an odd sensation, really, that feeling you get after visiting one of those muggle assylums. Not that I, Draco Malfoy, have ever been to one of those digusting wards.

I have merely observed them from afar. Very far.

Back to father. He was murdered, which isn't truly surprising since he was such a wretched man. Stingy, too. He never got me a Firebolt, despite my last six years of pining. Not to mention that when I was six years old, he flat out refused to buy me a pony.

I really wanted that pony. Not anymore, of course, but for a good year I had high hopes to ride around the manor estate on horse back, or in that case, the back of a small, plump pony.

And the amusing point to the whole story is that he was murdered by the ever wonderful, and I put my emphasis on the wonderful, Harry Potter.

I don't know whether to hate or love the boy. Or, by this point, man. I haven't seen him in what - three years? By God, I wasn't aware it has been that long. And I am truly surprised I haven't seen him around the Ministry.

Aunt Bellatrix supposedly saw him during her quick visit to Paris. He was shopping. With Ron. That stupid red-haired git has no idea how lucky he is.

Hmm. Mother keeps poking her head inside my room. After the fourth or so time I finally asked her what she wanted. Supposedly she was just checking up on me. Worried. Why I find to be strange, after all, _I'm _not the one who's been locked up in my room for a week. For a few hours, yes. Not nearly a week.

I sometimes wonder about the stability of my mother's sanity.

When she finally got around to leaving I decided I wanted to have a nice, soothing bath. Borrowed mother's bubble-bath without her knowledge. One of her newly acquired house elves, Howe, so happened to find me sneaking about Mother's bathroom.

Due to his odd expression, I assume he'll tell Mother nothing of it. At least, I hope he won't.

The last thing I need is her poking her head in more often than she usually does.

After my soak I continued my relaxations and read for a good deal of time, until Mother popped in again. Quite literally.

"Draco dear - dinner's ready,"

And pop, she was gone.

Goddamnit. I was just getting to the part where Timothy devotes his love to Regina. Oh right - dinner.

**Twenty-three minutes later**

Our butler, Jonathan, is not a people person. Or at least, he isn't anymore. I'll assume he was quite fond of my father, as he was working for him long before I was born.

I'm honestly surprised he's even alive to this day. He's at least seventy-odd years old. Poor bloke. I do, however, give him credit for still being as ravishing as he most likely was in his younger years. He even got Mother to smile.

I simply kept quiet. I know there is _some_ sort of infatuation between the two, but I am trying to keep my mouth shut on the subject.

We had roasted ham and apple dumplings. I do believe Jonathan knows how to lift a man's spirits. Food. I didn't end up eating much, merely nibbled at the food while pushing it about my grandmother's fine china.

Jonathan took my plate after a rather loud scratching of my fork on porcelain.

I think I annoy him somewhat.

When I did get around to excusing myself, I retreated to my room. It was then I realized I had a maid. A maid who was retrieving my bedclothes as to wash them.

Pretty little thing.

Her name's Patricia. I'll have to remember that.

Once she left, after shagging, of course, and took my bedsheets with her - I went to my balcony and continued my revelations.

I've decided I need to get a telescope. Not a muggle one, by no means, but a high quality, very expensive, wizard telescope.

I wonder if I'll find one at Diagon Alley.


	3. Sudden Guilt

How am I going to blame _this_ one on Voldemort?

I've just used the Avada Kedavra on Lucius Malfoy. I'm proud, and so is everyone else, or at least they pretend to be. It's strange, I never thought I would feel this way. Guilty. The way they all shuffle away and avert their eyes. They're ashamed and worried. Hermione especially. I rather think she fancies me, but is afraid of what I might become.

It was so easy, a simple curse. You just have to really_want_ the person gone. I suppose it does help that Lucius was half-dead already, thanks to Azkaban. I wonder if I could do it again? On Bellatrix Black, vengeance for Sirius. Or on Draco maybe. The stupid prat, he deserves it.

On that note, I do feel guilty. I've taken away Draco's father. I'm no better than Voldemort, really. Maybe worse! I mean, I'd never _met_ my father, but Draco had his. Always there. Except, now he's not. Because I killed him. I _killed_ him! I could go to Azkaban! I've been in trouble with the Ministry since practically my first year at Hogwarts, and this - oh no. Where's Dumbledore when you need him? Who's going to bail me out this time? I was a right git to Scrimgeour, 'Dumbledore's man to the end'. Hah. What good is Dumbledore now the end has come?

No, I shouldn't think that, I mean, what if Dumbledore's ghost is lurking nearby?

I need a snog. Not that anyone would snog me, I'm a killer. I wonder where Cho is .. She was always good for a quick snog, or a shag in the corner. It was once. Don't look at me like that. Cho was too emotional for my taste, though. Whining about Cedrick and whatnot.

"Cedrick's dead Cho dear."

Like Lucius. Oh dear. Poor Draco. And what about Draco's mother? She was in a right state, sobbing and leaning over Lucius. 'Lucius, wake up, wake up!' Poor woman. I do hope she isn't too shoken up, after all, Lucius _was_ in Azkaban for the past three years, she should have gotten used to not having him around by now, surely?

I'm a right prat. Explaining everything away with the swish of a wand. How sad. Mrs. Weasley is the only person who doesn't seem oddly wary around me. Maybe because she didn't see me kill Mr. Malfoy.

There, I said it. I killed him.

_Oh, did you really? I think everyone's gotten the idea by now, you great git._

Oh no, now I've got three voices in my head. The first of which sounds like me, the second like a nasally Hermione, and that last one sounded oddly like Draco Malfoy.

_You know, you really shouldn't attach people to the voices in your head, Harry. And I do not sound nasally._

I think I've offended one of my voices. Stupid girl. Wait - stupid delusional manifestation of a girl's voice. Yeah, that sounds right, I think.

-----

**_Six or so hours later_**

Fuck. My head. Those voices really need to learn to shut their traps. Hardly slept at all.

I took some of those handy muggle pills that make your head feel better.

Recommended by Nasally Voice. Yes, I named them. Now shove your mouth before I kill you too. GAH. I'm turning into a raving murderous git.

I need more of those fucking pills.

Okay. I've taken three more. I don't I'm supposed too. The bottle says something about not exceeding six in twenty four hours. I've taken, oh dear, seven in the past three hours.

That's not good. Not good at all. Oi. I'm tired all the sudden. Shit. Double shit.

Nighty night


	4. Confrontation

CONFRONTATION

Draco had some how managed to go to Diagon Alley, without his mother's company. But alas he could never quite escape her constant surveillance.

Jonathon was following him, voluntarily of course. Because surely Narcissa hadn't convinced him to such a tedious deed.

But, fortunately for Draco, Jonathon was keeping a far range putting a good eight yards between them at all times. And by all means was discrete. Which was also quite fortunate. No need to have people thinking that Draco was followed by a wrinkly old fellow that smelled faintly of vegetable oil.

Hmm. No, that wouldn't be good would it?

His pace was a mere stroll; he was being leisurely on this certain outing. Wearing pressed black slacks, a white button up shirt, leather loafers - yes loafers, and a simple black cloak draped casually from his shoulders, he appeared quite smashing. And dear old Jonathon was clad in his ever faithful gray tweed suit.

If the two had been standing in a pair, and Jonathon wasn't old nor smelt of 'old' people the two would make a fantastic coupling.

But alas, Draco is picky. And Jonathon is in fact old and thus smells well, old. With a curt nod to his butler Draco disappeared inside yet another small boutique.

Wonderful Wanda's Witchy Wear.

He perused the racks. Boring, disgusting, vile, filthy, ripped, torn. And then the shelves - well would you look at that. A smirked tugged at the young man's lips and he sized the bundle and approached the cashier. He squinted, reading her name tag - which was so conveniently located - aloud, "Tina. Hmm."

He placed the bundle on the counter, leaning into with one hip, idly preening over his manicured finger nails.

"You people have a fitting room?"

Harry strolled - no, was dragged by an ever excited Hermione - along Diagon Alley, searching for something. His head was pounding with not only the ever-chattering voices, but the repercussions of taking more than the daily allotment of asprin within three hours. When his drowsiness had worn off, Harry had proceeded to vomit repeatedly into a toilet before Hermione had the heart to cure him with a flick of her wrist.

What she was looking for, Harry didn't know. Hermione had been babbling senselessly since they had left Number Twelve, Gimmauld Place, Harry nodded ever so often, his mind elsewhere.

Lazily, Harry's bright green eyes traced the names of the shops they passed. _Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, Ollivander's, Amazing Apothecary, Taste of Hogsmeade Bar and Grill .._

"And you know Harry, Ron thought it was just an ordinary quill. What a git, I mean it was hot-pink and had seven legs! So I said .. Harry - Harry?"

Hermione shot Harry a patronizing look, but he didn't notice. What he _had _noticed was a young - not to mention _gorgeous_ - blonde walk into Wonderful Wanda's Witchy Wear.

Harry looked to Hermione as though seeing her for the first time. His green eyes wide, his hair disheveled, his jeans and sweater both uncommonly messy. Harry looked uncharacteristically frantic.

"Hermione, I need new robes."

Looking somewhat flustered, Hermione feigned a smile, placing her hand on his arm, in an attempt to turn him around.

"Well then Harry, we'll just head back this way to see Madam Malkin .."

"No! Gah - er .. Ehm, I mean, let's go see .. Er,"

Harry shot a furtive glance back at the shop Malfoy had entered.

"Wonderful Wanda."

Furrowing her slight brow in confusion, Hermione nodded.

"Alright Harry, Wonderful Wanda."

As Harry looked through rack after rack of robes, Hermione left to the changing rooms to try on her own. Opening the door to her designated change-room, she found it already occupied by a shagging couple. A shagging couple who looked suspiciously like Draco Malfoy and, judging by a discarded name tag on the floor, _Tina._

Blushing furiously, Hermione slammed the door shut, her eyes wide with horror.

"GRANGER, YOU OUGHT TO KNOCK FIRST."

Looking up to see a completely flustered Hermione, Harry furrowed his brow.

"Who was that?"

Still blushing, Hermione leaned casually against a rack of 'plus-sized' robes.

"Just so happens I caught Draco with his pants down."

Harry merely stared at Hermione blankly.

"Draco _Malfoy_?"

Again, Hermione shot Harry a patronizing look.

"Do you _know_ another Draco?"

Harry, who was blushing now, coughed to clear his throat.

"Eh .. Well, no."

"OF COURSE IT'S MALFOY YOU BLOODY GIT."

Completely unaffected by Hermione's impatience, Harry idly wondered if it would be too much a coincidence if _he_ happened to walk in on Malfoy.

As he was debating the pros and cons of this a thoroughly blissful cashier popped out of the change-rooms, her top on backwards. Giggling madly, she took her place at the front desk.

And who else should follow her but Draco Malfoy, his expression one of complete indifference. As his icy blue gaze fell upon Hermione, something of a smirk came over his features.

"You know, there are other means of seeing a man with his clothes off Granger."

Continuing her giggling, Harry realized this cashier reminded him unpleasantly of Pansy Parkinson. It was obvious Draco thought this too as he shot her a withering glare.

"And Potter, the murderer."

"Look .. Malfoy, I .. Eh .."

Too many feelings had took Harry over. Jealousy toward Hermione, jealousy toward the cashier, longing for Draco - No, wait, that was crazy. He hated Draco.

_No, you're crazy, you stupid git. Snog him already._

_The drawling Draco-voice has a point, Harry._

Great, now the voices had formed a club to drive him insane. Harry blushed furiously, furtively surveying Malfoy.

Hermione folded her arms over her chest.

"Lucius had it coming."

Draco glared at Hermione, brushing aside his now ruffled white-blonde hair.

"Don't speak his name filthy mud-blood."

Hermione fumed while Harry tried madly to think of something to say.

"Harry," Hermione spoke sharply, "We're going to Madam Malkin's."

Harry stood, awkwardly, still staring at Draco.

"NOW HARRY."

"Right. Coming."

He turned on his heel and stalked after Hermione, daring to throw a last look over his shoulder.

Draco was talking with the cashier - as if he hadn't just had a confrontation with his father's killer.


	5. Peeping Merlin

PEEPING MERLIN

I need a fire whiskey. Or a shot of scotch. Something.

Not that I haven't drank four –hiccup- fire whiskeys already. But I want another damn it.

I saw him today. The murderer fellow, that is. Not my Father. He was with that filthy mud blood. Disgusting. Funny enough though, she walked in on me and oh dear – what was her name? I do believe it was something along the lines of I-have-no-idea.

But, oh well. She was rather giggly and couldn't keep quiet. And thus she was ranting. It didn't help she was blonde. Blondes are never smart when it comes to women.

Look at my mother for example.

She let me into the world.

How impeccably stupid can you get?

Anyways, the girl didn't seem at all upset by having a peeping little muggle born witch poke her little head in, but rather decided to lavish in the attention.

She must not get very many customers.

So while she scrambled to pull on her clothes – which weren't really clothes, merely scraps of fabric stitched together to cover herself. But only barely.

I hate the whore-ish ones.

OH. You won't believe it. I got my expensive, high quality, wizard telescope.

It was a bit of a pocket digger though. Jonathon nearly wet himself when I told him I had to retrieve more money to be able to pay for it.

And Mother, well she wasn't pleased with my purchases to say the least.

The latest edition of The Hoodwanker, four quills, a bottle of ink, toffee, gin, and my fantabulous telescope.

Only problem is that it lacks instructions and I have no bloody idea how it works.

Maybe Howe can help. He's rather diligent for a house elf.

Some time later

It turns out Howe is more diligent then I thought.

All we need to do was remove the eye cap, and blah blah blah. I think I already forgot how to use it. Hmm. Maybe I have short term memory loss, or something of the like.

Nope.

I definitely remember that Harry looked fucking gorgeous all messy and awkward like that. I had to use every ounce of dignity and self control to even tear away from staring and demote my eye sight onto Tina.

Oh. Yes. Tina. That was her name.

She reminded me of someone. Oh! Pansy Parkinson. That little whore. Hated her.

She was rather good in bed though. And she had lovely hands.

But she was too cocky. Thought she could have me forever and ever. Hahaha. I liked I'd want to marry her. Disgusting. While her assets are becoming, her features sent me to nightmares on more then one fine evening.

DEAR MERLIN.

Mother just popped in while I was changing.

I must have screamed so loud that I woke up Jonathon becomes three seconds later – pop – he was standing there beside my mother.

And they seemed to be staring.

I flustered and snatched my recently dropped towel and quickly wrapped my lower regions.

"Oi. I already had a mud blood peeping at me today I don't need my own mother and butler joining the frenzy!"


	6. Stupid Gits

Harry's become a right prat since the rendevous in Diagon Alley. I can't tell if he's miffed at Malfoy for being such a git, or upset at me for making him leave. Honestly, did Harry expect me to stand there and let Malfoy's words bounce off me?

I can't believe I walked in on Draco like that - in the change-room, I mean. And it wasn't as though he was checking himself in the mirror, he was snogging - no, _shagging_ the clerk! Honestly, that girl giggled so hysterically, both during the - _relations -_ and afterward, I don't know how he could stand it. She reminds me of Pansy Parkinson. Ugh.

Harry seemed sort of dumbstruck at Wonderful Wanda's Witchy Wear. I've never known Harry to be so awkward - except when he was around Cho Chang, of course, but he hasn't seen her for years.

Apparently she moved. Near Cedric's parent's place in Liverpool. Hah. I'll bet she has a mourning club. Not that I don't relate, Cedric was a smashing boy, but she couldn't even look Harry in the eye without bursting into tears.

Back to Wanda's. I didn't pay too much attention to the girl, after all, having Malfoy's naked image imprinted in your brain is _quite _distracting.

Anyways, Harry was also quite awkward. I had expected him to come up with some smarmy comeback but instead he just stared at me like I had sprouted a second head. Stupid git.

I practically had to drag him away from the ridiculous Wonderful Wanda's Witchy Wear.

_And _we didn't even buy any robes at Madame Malkin's.

On a brighter note, Ron's been acting much more cheerful lately. I wonder if he's heard from Ginny. I asked Ron if he's noticed Harry's darkening moods and strange silences. He stared at me blankly. Obviously he's oblivious or just moronic.

I met with Luna Lovegood for tea, and we had a lovely chat. She seemed enthralled with some 'Perpetua green-horned gyffiworms'. I figure she's made them up though. Fancy having a horned flobberworm with a lion's mane and nine legs. Yeah. _That's _how she's described them.

Odd girl.

I also went to the library. Found a great book on love spells and potions. Wouldn't dream of using them. What? Did you _really _expect me to say something like '_Harry'd accidentally drank one and is now thrilled at the thought of snogging Ron._'

Hah. Ridiculous, even it would explain Ron's cheery mood ..

Ah, here's Mrs. Weasley now. Dinner, I expect. Or not.

Fred and George have been sending for me for ages, apparently.

**Ten minutes later**

Those - those - UGGGH. They need psychiatrists. I mean, they call for me to ask me to test their newest gag for W.W.W.

Guess what it was.

Go on, guess.

BRAIN SHRINKING GUM.

Apparently it's supposed to make you a whole lot dumber. Or, as they put it;

"Hermione, it'll make you a far more agreeable acquaintance."

"Truly Herm. Would we lie to you? Sometimes you're a bit too -"

"Annoyingly bright."

I suppose I must have looked outraged, for they quickly added;

"Not that we don't think you're brilliant,"

"Really, you are."

"We just need someone to test it on."

"Not that you're just a guinea pig!"

Needless to say I stormed off. They've tried to apparate up here to see me, but I've put a charm on the room. Let's see them get in now.

Stupid gits.


End file.
